


Worship

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blow Jobs, First Time, Impala Sex, M/M, Post-Episode: s02e22 All Hell Breaks Loose
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-13
Updated: 2017-09-13
Packaged: 2018-12-27 09:13:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12078072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Set right after the end of season 2. Sam is mad at Dean for trading his soul... until Dean admits the real reason he can't live without Sam.





	Worship

“Why’d you do it?” Sam says over the roar of the engine as they head down the highway, away from the church.

Dean groans. “Do we have to talk about this?”

“Yeah, Dean. We do.” He scowls before continuing. “You know how you felt when Dad sacrificed himself for you. Why would you do that to me?” Sam focuses on his anger, trying to keep the tears from his voice. One year. They only have one year.

“I didn’t have a choice,” Dean mutters, staring down the dark road.

“Didn’t-” Sam scoffs, turning his head to look at Dean. “Of course you had a choice!” he explodes. “You chose to sell your soul to a demon. You could have let me go.”

“I can’t.” Dean’s knuckles are white on the steering wheel and he takes a shaky breath. “I couldn’t. I got a taste of life without you while you were at Stanford. At least then I knew you were alive. I can’t do it again. Without you to look after, I’m just a selfish, womanizing jerk with a hero complex. But you… you’re smart, a better hunter when you want to be, way better with people. The world's better off with you… and without me.”

A world without Dean. There is no such thing for Sam. Dean is his world. 

“Pull over,” Sam snaps. Dean is so much more than he thinks and Sam is going to make him see that.

“What? Why?” Dean looks at him like he’s crazy.

“Just do it,” Sam insists.

Dean flicks his blinker on and pulls off into a field beside the road. “Alright, what?”

Sam reaches over and cuts the engine and switches off the lights, bringing him closer to Dean. He swallows in the sudden dark and quiet, not meeting Dean’s eyes yet. “You’re not... well, you’re not just a womanizing jerk,” Sam says and flicks his gaze over to meet Dean’s.

Dean gives a half smile but is still confused.

Sam looks away again, picking at a spot on his jeans. “And you are a hero Dean. To me, at least. Don’t you remember when I was six years old and I wanted to dress up as you for Halloween? I wrote an essay in second grade about how I wanted to be you when I grew up. God, I’ve practically worshiped you since we were kids. How could you think you going to Hell would be any easier for me?”

Dean runs a hand through his hair, sighing. “You’re better at this stuff. Moving on, letting go, being normal. I’m too fucked up to live. Not when I could trade my life for yours. It’s better this way.”

“This is not better. What do you mean you’re too fucked up to live?”

“It doesn’t matter.” Dean shifts in his seat, looking out the window.

“If you’re willing to die over it, then I'd say it does,” Sam says, anger creeping back into his voice.

Dean sighs again, rolling his eyes. “Just let it go.”

“Why won't you talk about this?” Sam turns to face Dean completely, waving his hands in irritation. “If you tell me what’s bothering you, we can fix it?”

“It’s nothing.” Dean shuffles against the window and turns away.

Sam slides closer, grabbing Dean’s shoulder and turning him back. They are nearly nose to nose. “Dean, what-?”

Sam cuts off when he sees a flurry of emotions cross Dean’s face. Anxiety. Fear. Want. Desperation.

Dean licks his lips, drawing Sam’s eyes to them. They are full and soft, now a little bit shiny with spit. Sam imagines how they'd feel pressed against his own, or better yet, wrapped around his cock.

Sam has had these thoughts before. His hero worship took on a different tone when he hit puberty. He always thought these feelings were one sided. It’s part of what drove him to Stanford. But something about Dean’s expression suddenly makes everything clear. He knows why Dean couldn’t live without him and it is the same reason Sam can’t live without Dean.

He meets Dean’s eyes, a knot building in his stomach. Achingly slow, Sam moves closer, giving Dean time to say stop, to pull away, anything. He doesn’t.

Dean freezes when their lips touch.

Sam’s heart drops. He thinks he must have ruined everything. Then Dean kisses him back, mouth parting, tongue flicking against Sam’s lips. Sam still has one hand on Dean’s shoulder and he fists the other in the front of Dean's jacket, pulling them closer. He moans embarrassingly loud when Dean’s hands tangle in his hair. Dean smiles against his lips.

It should probably feel wrong or dirty to kiss his brother like their lives depend on it. But for all Sam knew, Dean’s life did. So instead it felt right, necessary even. Sam presses himself against Dean’s warmth. He can feel Dean’s heart race beneath his fist.

Dean has his hands on either side of Sam’s neck when he pulls away, resting their foreheads against each other. “Sam, we shouldn’t. We can’t. Even ignoring how fucked up this is, I’m gonna die.”

In the dim light, Sam can just make out a hint of green in Dean’s eyes. “We’ll find a way to fix it. I’m not gonna let you die, Dean.” Sam presses their mouths together. “Not then. Not now. Not ever,” he whispers between kisses. He knows he’s not making much sense. They have no idea how to fix this, but Sam will make it happen.

Dean searches Sam’s eyes and nods. “Okay.” He pulls away and gets out, leaving the driver's door open as he climbs in the back. “Com’ere,” he growls, the roughness of his tone sending shivers down Sam’s spine. He hurries to comply.

Sam crawls into the back seat and throws one leg over Dean’s lap. He has to duck to keep from bumping his head but it only gives him a reason to kiss Dean again. Sam spreads his legs wider, grinding his own growing erection against the seam of Dean's pants. He can feel Dean’s cock, hard against his own.

“God, Dean. Do you know how long I’ve wanted this?”

Dean looks up at him, eyes wide, pupils blown. He shakes his head.

Sam bends down and kisses Dean’s lips, moving along the stubble of his jaw and down his throat. “As long as I can remember wanting anyone,” Sam murmurs.

He shifts back and pulls Dean’s shirt out of the way to suck and nibble at his collar bone. “You’re so perfect Dean. You always have been.” He gets his fingers under the hem of Dean’s shirts and pulls them over his head. “So fucking gorgeous.” Sam bends to kiss Dean’s chest, slithering to the floor to kneel between Dean’s feet. “Goddamn beautiful,” he says, flicking his tongue over one of Dean’s nipples. Dean makes a startled noise, his stomach tensing. Sam grins now that he’s found a sensitive spot. “ But it’s not just how hot you are. You’re strong and brave and so fucking smart even if you won’t admit it,” he says. He spends time swirling his tongue around the hard little buds. He sucks and rolls them between his lips. He even presses his teeth to them to see Dean squirm. Dean’s hips buck and he fists his hands against the seat.

“Sam,” Dean pants. The sound of Dean’s voice strung out like that, calling Sam’s name make desire course hot through his veins.

Sam presses a hand to Dean’s thigh and slides up slowly. He pauses when his finger reaches the base of Dean's cock where it's trapped beneath his jeans. Sam knuckles over the length of it, feeling the heat. Dean is breathing heavy above him by the time Sam gets around to undoing Dean’s pants. Dean sits up a little so Sam can pull them down past his knees.

Sam’s mouth waters at the sight of Dean’s cock, thick and heavy against his thigh. Sam has prayed before every now and then, but on his knees right now all he wants is to worship Dean’s cock. He wastes no time getting his lips around it, moaning at the salty sweet taste. He sucks Dean down as far as he can go, gagging a little when Dean hits the back of his throat.

Dean’s fingers comb through his hair and Sam looks up at him through his lashes. “Easy,” Dean murmurs, voice burning through Sam better than top shelf whiskey.

Sam moans again, palming his own cock throbbing in his jeans to relieve some pressure. He keeps his left hand there, bringing his right up to wrap around the part of Dean’s cock he can’t fit in his mouth. Dean’s head falls back against the seat.

Sam sucks and swirls his tongue around the head of Dean’s cock, working his hand over the length. The subtle encouragement of Dean’s hand resting gently on the back of his head sends a shiver down Sam’s spine. Sam’s left hand isn’t usually coordinated enough to get him off but right now he feels ready to explode any minute. He hopes he can get Dean there too.

Sam bobs his head vigorously, adding a slight twist at the end.

“Yeah,” Dean groans so Sam keeps doing it.

“Fuck Sam, I’m close,” Dean warns. He moves his hands so Sam can pull off but Sam shakes his head a little. He sucks down as far as he can go.

“Sam,” Dean moans as he comes thick and bitter.

One more stroke and Sam's own orgasm crashes over him. Rippling waves of pleasure make him feel aware of every singing nerve as he pulses messily in his jeans.

He breathes through his nose as he starts to come down, Dean's come still filling his mouth. Sam pulls off and carefully swallows, lapping up any stray drops. Dean twitches at the over stimulation.

Dean tugs at Sam's hair to get his attention. When he looks up, Dean nods and pats his thigh. Sam rises to straddle Dean’s lap again. Dean kisses him, swiping his tongue into Sam’s mouth to taste himself. Dean’s hand finds the wet spot on Sam’s jeans and he pulls back. There is a flicker of disappointment but he looks up at Sam with one eyebrow raised. “Didn’t wanna wait your turn?”

Sam laughs burying his face in the crook of Dean’s neck. Dean’s arms surround him. It’s warm and comfortable and safe, like the answer to a prayer.

“This might almost be worth selling my soul for,” Dean says softly.

Sam bites whatever part of Dean is closest to his mouth.

“Ow!”

“Don’t say that.”

Dean sighs. “Yeah, okay.”

“I love you Dean. I’m gonna save you.”

Dean squeezes Sam closer but doesn’t say anything.


End file.
